Sacrifice of War
by Zothar
Summary: He wasn't happy with his decision. Hell, he wasn't even sure it was the right one to make. But you don't get the luxury of hindsight in war. All you can do is make a choice, and pray it was the right one to make.


Shunsui leaned back in his chair, allowing his head to rest against the back as he let out a long breath. Unconsciously he reached up and traced the foreign material covering his eye, feeling the fabric brush against the skin underneath. It was uncomfortable, and he idly wondered how long it had taken the Kenpachi to get used to his. If he saw the man again, he'd have to ask.

The room still resonated with Yamamoto's presence, as though the very walls had trapped the old man's spirit within them. The void left by his death seemed impossibly large, and far too great for Shunsui to fill. He never felt so small as when he sat in the head captain's chair; his chair. It would always be too big.

Even now, as he sat in the first division, recent circumstances and events felt surreal. Defeat at the hands of the Quincy, the loss of their commander, his promotion, and now his most recent decision all felt like a nightmare from which he couldn't awaken. The sudden pressures of leadership, especially in times of a war as serious as this, were not something he would wish upon any captain now that he had experienced it. No doubt people in years to come would look back on his actions with a critical eye. They would weigh each and every decision with their various possibilities and outcomes, discussing among themselves and gaining the most well-rounded insight possible into the situation, before finally declaring what the correct course of action would have been.

He didn't have that luxury. He couldn't afford to delay, to discuss or analyze all the possibilities with the hindsight future generations would be gifted with. All he could do was choose a path, running down it headlong, and hope like hell that he had made the right decision.

Had it been the right decision? There was no way of knowing, at least not yet. He had spoken to both parties beforehand, separately. He wasn't going to choose this course unless everyone involved was both aware and agreeable to the plan. Unohana's reaction had not been surprising. She had remained calm and professional, but an unholy gleam had entered her eyes at the chance to fight the Kenpachi once again. Shunsui had known her, back when she was the original Kenpachi, and had heard stories of the days when she had been Soul Societies worst criminal. Even though they were close, there would always be a small part of him which feared that side of her; the look in her eyes reminded him of that fear once more. Beneath her care and gentleness as a healer there was always a warrior, fighting to escape once more.

He had, however, been unprepared for Zr When he had told the hospitalized man of his plan, the large man had simply grunted, his scowl staying firmly in place. Where Shunsui had expected enthusiastic agreement, perhaps complete with colorful language, there was cold calculation instead.

"One of us will die," the large man said simply. Shunsui had blinked at his bluntness, nevertheless nodding in agreement. Zaraki glanced over at the sleeping form of his lieutenant, eyes softening as the pink haired girl's chest rose and fell gently with her breathing.

"She carried me here, ya know," he muttered, almost to softly to hear. "After I got my ass handed to me, she made sure I made it back alright." Turning back to the new Commander, Zaraki's eyes hardened once more.

"You sure you're willing to make that sacrifice? 'Cause I ain't dyin. Not yet." Again, Shunsui nodded. Zaraki lowered back onto his bed. "Then I'll fight," he said simply, and that was that.

The Kenpachi's words continued to ring through Shunsui's head as he sat at his desk. _Are you willing to make that sacrifice? _The bloodthirsty man was right; once those two started to fight, there would be no stopping them; not even Yamamoto would have tried to get in between those two. They would fight until one of them was dead. He was going to lose a captain, no matter what the outcome. Sacrifices of war; they needed a more powerful warrior than either of those two. It had to be done.

That didn't remove an ounce of his guilt.

A knock on the door shook Shunsui from his thoughts, and he smiled as Nanao entered. "Ah, my beautiful Nanao-chan," he drawled as he extended his arms as if for a hug. She, for her part, remained on the other side of his desk, arms crossed, as she glared at him without malice.

"Sleeping on the job already, captain?" she answered back, though without her usual bite. Circumstances had robbed them of their usual banter.

"It's almost time to notify the Central 46," Shunsui continued, becoming more somber. He glanced at the prepared speech lying on his desk. "Not the most pleasant task that comes to mind."

Nanao nodded. "I understand." When her captain didn't respond, she inclined her head. "Are you sure about this plan, captain?"

Shunsui gave a soft, harsh chuckle. "I'm not sure about anything in this war. I just know that if we do nothing, we will lose. Zaraki is a war potential; our strongest without Ichigo. We need him at full strength, or not at all."

"Even if that means losing Unohana?"

Shunsui sighed. "Yes."

"And if the Kenpachi rebels?" she asked softly. "Will we be strong enough to stop him?"

"I don't know," the Commander answered after a long moment. "But I can't worry about that now. We must win one war, Nanao, before we can worry about the next."

His lieutenant nodded, taking her leave as Shinsui once more leaned back and closed his eyes. He wished like hell Yamamoto was still alive at this moment. He hated having this much responsibility, having the lives of so many people in his hands. He wished he could keep them all alive.

But he couldn't. All he could do was win the war.

So that's what he would do.


End file.
